


wild and unruly

by arysa13



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Camping, Choking, Daddy Kink, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Humor, Jealousy, Praise Kink, Secret Relationship, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:48:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27668438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: She never should have saved his contact name as Daddy. What was she thinking? It wasn’t with her brain, that’s for sure. Now Octavia knows she has a secret boyfriend, and that she calls him daddy, and that’s humiliating enough. But Clarke doesn’t think she can bear for Octavia to know it’s Bellamy.aka Bellamy and Clarke try to keep their relationship a secret while on a camping trip with their friends, Bellamy’s ex, and the guy Octavia is trying to set Clarke up with.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 90
Kudos: 501
Collections: Kelly's Picks





	wild and unruly

**Author's Note:**

  * For [safeandsound13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/safeandsound13/gifts).



> For Max, here is the shit-stained toilet paper you asked for <3 
> 
> Consider this an eight month birthday-versary slash I'm glad you're alive present.

There’s a reassuring stillness in Clarke’s apartment on Saturday morning, as she quietly lets herself in, making sure to hold her keys tight in her fist so they don’t jangle. She’s lived with Octavia for two years now, she knows her roommate isn’t going to be even close to awake before eight in the morning. Still, she can’t take any chances. There is a perfect time for Octavia to find out Clarke has been secretly fucking her roommate’s brother for the last six months, but now is not that time. Octavia can be quite volatile, to say the least. Better to wait until she’s had some coffee.

Clarke creeps into the apartment, gently shutting and locking the door behind her, before tip-toeing to her room. She breathes a sigh of relief when she throws herself on her bed, another rendezvous undetected. Aside from her missing panties, and the come dripping onto her thighs, there’s no evidence she was with Bellamy at all.

It’s not that Clarke thinks Octavia would disapprove of her relationship with Bellamy. In fact, she thinks once her roommate has gotten over the insult of not being told sooner, she’ll be quite ecstatic about it, being the one who introduced them. But there will probably be a tantrum when she finds out this has been going on under her nose for months now. It’s six, but when they break they news, later today, they’re going to say five. Let everyone think it took Bellamy a month to move on from Echo, and not an hour like it actually was.

Truthfully, Clarke doesn’t particularly care about Echo’s feelings—although apparently Bellamy does, just a little. She does care about her reputation though, just enough to not want her friends to hate her for stealing their other friend’s boyfriend. For some unknown reason, Echo is still part of the group. Raven and Emori grew attached to her or something. Even Octavia tolerates her presence now, after hating her for the first month Bellamy was dating her.

Clarke, apparently, is the only one who couldn’t care less if Echo lives or dies.

She opens her messages with Bellamy to let him know she made it home safe. She saved him under _Daddy_ in her phone, and she gets a thrill every time she sees it. She’s never had a daddy before. Never had someone take care of her the way he does, never had someone fuck her quite so good either.

She then pretends to get up for the first time, more loudly than before, setting to making coffee in the kitchen. Octavia joins her ten minutes later, looking like a bedraggled bratz doll, like she always does in the mornings.

There is a slight spring in her step today though, unlike other mornings. Clarke knows it’s because they’re finally going on that camping trip Octavia and Lincoln have been planning for months. Octavia is the sort of girl who just kind of belongs in the wilderness. If she and Lincoln move to a cabin in the woods one day and hunt for all their own food, Clarke won’t be surprised.

Oddly enough, Clarke is actually looking forward to the camping trip too, though it’s not usually something high up on her list of favourite activities. But anything she does with Bellamy is fun, and she keeps daydreaming about walking through the woods hand in hand with him, kissing him in the lake, sitting on his lap by the fire, sucking his cock in their tent.

Only problem is, to get to that part, they have to actually come clean about their relationship. Which they’re supposed to be doing in half an hour, when Bellamy comes over to pick them up for the trip. Clarke’s gut churns with anxiety at the thought of it. Things have been so good for the last six months, and she’s afraid of how things might change once everyone knows. But she’s also so ready to get to be his girlfriend in public, to finally be able to act like a real couple, to be able to touch him whenever she wants. To be able to stake her claim when other women hit on him.

Just one little hurdle, and then she can have all that.

“What time did you get home last night?” Octavia asks, grabbing the mug of coffee Clarke has made for her. “I didn’t hear you.”

“Uhh,” Clarke says. “Not sure exactly. Late.”

She’d told Octavia she was going out with work friends—an excuse she’s used many times over the last few months. Octavia probably thinks Clarke is super close with her co-workers, when in actual fact Clarke has nothing to do with them outside of work.

As much as Clarke is nervous about telling Octavia the truth, she’s not going to miss all the lying. Though it is kind of thrilling, standing there in the kitchen, with Octavia none the wiser that Clarke still has Bellamy’s come leaking out of her.

“You should get ready,” Clarke says. “Bellamy will be here in half an hour. I’m going to shower.”

She goes to make a swift exit, leaving her phone on the counter in her haste to get out of there.

“Phone,” Octavia reminds her, picking it up, just as it buzzes with a text. Octavia glances at the screen. “From… daddy? But your dad’s dead.” Clarke’s stomach plummets.

“Oh my god,” she squeals, lunging for the phone. She had the good sense to turn off notification previews, but the damage is done now. Her face is burning, and her mind grapples for an excuse, any excuse that isn’t the truth, as she sees understanding dawn in Octavia’s expression, the penny dropping.

“Oh my god,” Octavia repeats, locking eyes with Clarke, her mouth hanging open. “What the fuck? I don’t even know where to start. Are you _dating_ someone? And do you call him _daddy_?”

“No,” Clarke huffs. “Shut up. None of your business.”

“Oh my god, you do,” Octavia says. She screws up her nose. Clarke can’t quite tell if she’s horrified or just offended that she didn’t know sooner. “You’re into that?”

“Can we stop talking about this?” Clarke groans. “I really need to shower.”

“Were you really out with your work friends last night? Or were you with him? Or her? Can you call women daddy, or does it then become mommy? Somehow that sounds even more fucked up.”

“I’m not dating anyone,” Clarke snaps, a bald-faced lie, and Octavia clearly knows it. “Now, I’m going to shower.” She flees the kitchen before Octavia can ask any more embarrassing questions.

“This isn’t over!” Octavia yells after her.

Clarke barricades herself in the shower, feeling mortified and idiotic. She never should have saved his contact name as Daddy. What was she _thinking_? It wasn’t with her brain, that’s for sure. Now Octavia knows she has a secret boyfriend, and that she calls him daddy, and that’s humiliating enough. But Clarke doesn’t think she can bear for Octavia to know it’s _Bellamy_. That’s something a sister should never know about her brother. Clarke doesn’t know if she could ever live it down.

She checks her messages from Bellamy when she gets out of the shower, and she can only be thankful she had the previews turned off.

**_I’m glad you got home safe baby_ **

**_I’ll be over soon_ **

**_Can’t wait to lick your pretty cunt under the stars_ **

Clarke lets out a small moan as she reads it. She wants nothing more than that, but unfortunately, she now thinks their confession is going to have to wait. At least until Octavia has forgotten about the daddy thing. Clarke cringes again at the thought of it.

She darts to her room, avoiding Octavia, relaxing a little when she hears her roommate turn the shower on. She’s safe for a few minutes at least.

Octavia is still in the shower when Bellamy arrives, singing some Ariana Grande song at the top of her voice. Clarke lets him in, and he casts a quick glance around the room to make sure Octavia isn’t in it before he tugs her close and graces her lips with an open-mouthed kiss, the dirty, _I want to fuck you right now_ kind.

“I missed you,” he murmurs when he pulls his lips away. Their fingers are intertwined, their mouths only millimetres apart.

“I missed you too, Daddy,” Clarke whispers, brushing her lips against his again. She likes the way his breath hitches when she calls him that, giving her a pleasant pulse between her legs.

“Is this really appropriate camping attire?” he asks, toying with the hem of her sunflower patterned sundress.

“Don’t you like it?” Clarke pouts.

“Of course, I like it, baby,” he says, his eyes dipping to where the dress opens wide over her cleavage, baring much more of her breasts than she’d normally show in public. The dress is mostly backless, with just two strings criss-crossing over it, so she’s braless, and her nipples poke out against the thin material. “Don’t know if I’m happy about anyone else seeing you in it though.”

“Are you going to make me change?”

“Hmm,” he considers. “I think I’ll allow it, just this once. Since you look so pretty.”

Clarke preens under his praise. A kink she absolutely did not know she had until he started calling her beautiful and perfect and _good girl_ every chance he got. She supposes none of her previous partners never really bothered with compliments. At least, they never made them feel genuine, the way Bellamy does.

His fingers dance up her thigh, between her legs, just like she hoped he would. He’s met with bare skin, making contact with her slit, already leaking arousal.

“And no panties?” he growls. “You’re just asking for trouble, aren’t you? Naughty girl.”

Bellamy hooks his arm around her and crushes her to his chest, capturing her lips with his, teasing her clit with his fingers at the same time, making her gasp into his mouth.

“We should be more careful,” Clarke says, even as she’s still kissing him back. Even though this is exactly what she wanted when she put this dress on. “Octavia could walk in.”

“You ready to tell her?”

Clarke shakes her head, pulling back. His arm is still around her waist, his thumb stroking her lower back absently through her cotton dress. His other hand stays firmly pressed against her cunt, like he owns it. “We can’t.”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “And why’s that?”

“She saw my phone,” Clarke explains. “She didn’t see the messages but she saw your contact name. If we tell her now, she’ll know it’s you. That you’re my daddy.”

“Oh, baby,” Bellamy coos. “Are you embarrassed? You don’t want everyone to know you’re my little girl?”

“I’m not embarrassed of _you_ ,” she clarifies. “I just—I’d rather keep that stuff private.”

Bellamy nods, understanding. She’s glad he’s not mad at her. Although seeing her daddy mad can be its own reward sometimes.

“I know, baby,” he says. “It’s a little awkward, and I’d rather not have Octavia knowing our personal business. But what’s the alternative? We keep our relationship a secret forever? We just going to pretend we’re moving in together as best friends?”

Clarke flushes. That’s the other reason they need to come clean about their relationship. Octavia is moving in with her boyfriend Lincoln in two weeks, leaving Clarke free to find a place to live with Bellamy. She _really_ doesn’t want to put it off any longer. She’s sick of spending so many nights without him, feeling needy and aching, desperately craving his attention. She wants to come home to him, wants to go to bed with him, and wake up with him, without having to worry about sneaking back home.

“Just a little longer,” she pleads. “Just until Octavia has forgotten all about this.”

“Okay,” Bellamy agrees reluctantly. “At this rate we’re going to be married before anyone even knows we were dating.”

Clarke chokes out a laugh, trying to appear unaffected by the mention of marriage. She has no doubt they’re going to get married someday, but to hear him say it so nonchalantly, to know he thinks about it too, makes her weak for him. As if she wasn’t already.

Clarke hears the shower shut off, and she quickly jumps away from Bellamy, as if Octavia will be bursting out here right away to catch them touching each other.

“Let me take your things out to the car,” Bellamy says, and Clarke agrees. She absolutely can carry her things herself, but he likes looking after her in tiny ways like that, and she likes being taken care of. Sue her for being anti-feminist or whatever, but having a man do things for her is hot.

By the time Octavia emerges, dressed and ready to go, Bellamy has loaded Clarke’s belongings into his four-wheel-drive. He doesn’t offer to take Octavia’s things, and Clarke knows his sister would just take offence to the offer anyway.

Octavia calls shotgun, much to Clarke’s chagrin. She’s already starting to regret the decision to keep her relationship with Bellamy a secret for longer. She wants the girlfriend privileges of getting to sit up front, closer to Bellamy, where she can properly admire his hands on the gearshift and the steering wheel. She folds her arms, sulking in the back seat like a child.

“Turn here,” Octavia instructs, and Bellamy quickly obeys.

“I thought we were picking up Lincoln,” he says.

“We are,” Octavia says. “But Finn and Echo are on the way.”

“ _Echo_?” Bellamy groans, before Clarke can. The mention of that bitch’s name turns her into something rabid, and she knows she has to keep an even temper, lest Octavia start asking questions as to _why_ Clarke hates Bellamy’s ex so much. She knew Echo was coming on the trip, but she figured she’d get a ride with Raven and Emori. And she didn’t even know Finn of all people was invited.

“What?” Octavia says. “Raven has a full car, and we have space.”

“No offence O, but a two hour drive with my ex in the car is not my idea of a good time,” Bellamy complains, exasperated. He glances over his shoulder at Clarke, and she pouts at him. Surely he can do more to get out of having to bring Echo with them.

“You’ll get over it,” Octavia shrugs, and Bellamy exhales through his nose in frustration, but it seems like the matter is settled.

“I don’t get why she has to come with us,” Clarke mutters, unable to keep her feelings to herself. “Or Raven’s ex, for that matter. Talk about the most awkward camping trip ever.”

“He’s a good guy. They’re still friends.”

“Didn’t he _cheat on her_?”

“She forgave him for that. And he really wanted to be invited, because, well. He thinks you’re hot.”

It’s Clarke’s turn to groan. “You have got to be kidding me.” She watches as Bellamy’s jaw ticks, and his grip tightens on the steering wheel as he flicks another glance over his shoulder at Clarke.

“This was before I knew you had a secret boyfriend!” Octavia says defensively. “Hey, Bellamy did you know Clarke has a secret boyfriend?”

“Does she?” he says stiffly.

“Octavia!”

“Oops,” Octavia says, not sounding apologetic in the slightest. “Was I not supposed to tell?”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“How serious is it? Because you could give Finn a shot if things with Mr Daddy are just casual.”

“Oh my god,” Clarke says, as Bellamy chokes on air.

“It can’t be that serious,” Octavia muses. “Or you wouldn’t be wearing such a slutty dress on a camping trip where he can’t see it. I’m sure Finn won’t mind if you want to call him daddy.”

“That’s enough, Octavia,” Bellamy growls. “Leave her alone.”

“I wasn’t talking to _you_ ,” Octavia sniffs, but she drops the subject, much to Clarke’s relief.

Bellamy pulls up in front of Echo’s house. It’s irrational, but it annoys Clarke that he remembered how to get here so easily, the route to her place still in etched in some subconscious part of his mind. He doesn’t, however, make any effort to get out of the car and help Echo as she lugs her things out onto the street. He doesn’t even shut the car off, and he’s taking off from the curb before Echo even has the door shut properly.

“Thanks for the ride, Bell,” Echo says, ignoring the existence of Clarke and Octavia entirely. Clarke glares at her, but she barely notices, her eyes on the back of Bellamy’s head.

“No problem,” he responds shortly. “Where does Finn live?”

They collect Finn, and Clarke is forced into the middle seat, between a woman she hates, and a man she absolutely wants nothing to do with. What a fun fucking road trip this is going to be. It’s not until they pull up in front of Lincoln’s place that Clarke realises they have a dilemma—six people and only five spaces to sit.

“You seriously didn’t think this through,” Clarke grumbles, as Lincoln puts his gear in the back.

“There’s plenty of room,” Octavia sniffs. There is not plenty of room.

Echo shuffles over to let Lincoln in, and then further, so Clarke is pressed right up against Finn, and Lincoln is _still_ half hanging out of the car. Until Finn takes some initiative and pulls Clarke onto his lap, making her squeak in surprise.

Bellamy whips his head around, and he can’t mask the pure rage on his face, a vein in his forehead throbbing as his lip curls.

“Sorry,” Finn says lecherously. “Seemed like the easiest solution. I don’t mind if you don’t.”

Clarke does mind. She doesn’t want to be in stupid _Finn’s_ lap, she wants to be in her boyfriend’s lap. She doesn’t think Finn will try anything while everyone else is in the car, but it’s still far from comfortable, and she’s all too aware of her lack of panties and the wetness between her thighs from Bellamy’s earlier ministrations.

“It’s not safe,” Bellamy growls. “One of you will have to find your own way there.”

“Please,” Octavia scoffs. “You’re not that bad of a driver.”

“I’ll keep her safe,” Finn says, and Clarke can’t see his face but somehow she’s sure he’s winking.

Clarke waits for Bellamy to say something else, to grab her and pull her from Finn’s lap, claim her in front of everyone. But he says nothing, just grits his teeth and turns his head back towards the windscreen as he starts the car.

Disappointed, Clarke chews on her inner cheek, even though _she’s_ the one who wanted to continue keeping their secret. But surely there has to be another excuse, another solution. She doesn’t see why Octavia can’t just sit in Lincoln’s lap, seeing as how they’re an actual couple, but no one else suggests it, and Bellamy is already pulling out onto the road.

He hardly speaks after that, only grunts in response when someone addresses him directly. Clarke can feel the anger radiating off him, and she can’t help but wonder if she’ll be punished later, or if Finn will receive a black eye by the end of the weekend. No one else seems to notice his mood, and the conversation between Octavia, Lincoln, Echo, and Finn is upbeat and relaxed.

Thirty minutes into their journey, the car jolts as Bellamy accidentally hits a large pothole, and the movement seems to trigger a reaction in Finn, because the next thing Clarke knows, she’s got his erection pressed against her ass. She wants to die. She absolutely cannot bear another hour and a half of this.

“Bellamy,” she says, her voice coming out much more whiney and pathetic than she intends it. It has the desired effect though, and he immediately turns to her, his eyes blazing, finally realising what distress she’s in. She wonders if the others in the car notice the way they speak with their eyes, but it seems they barely register that she’s said his name.

Bellamy turns his eyes back towards the road. “Stopping for a bathroom break at the next rest stop,” he says curtly.

To Clarke’s relief, it’s only another ten minutes until they reach a truck stop, and Bellamy pulls in, quickly as possible. Clarke is off Finn’s lap and out of the car before the engine is even off.

“I’m not stopping again so if anyone else needs to go then you better go now,” Bellamy announces to the car. Everyone else stays put, and Bellamy gets out of the driver’s seat and accompanies Clarke to the bathroom. It’s unisex, and as soon as they’re inside, Bellamy pulls Clarke into a stall, locking the door and pressing her up against it.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Are you okay, baby?”

Clarke nods as he brushes non-existent strands of hair from her face, then presses his lips to her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “I shouldn’t have let him touch you. I didn’t know how to push the issue without making my reasons obvious. And I was mad you let him. Thought maybe you were enjoying the attention,” he admits.

“No, Daddy, I only want you to touch me,” Clarke promises.

Bellamy groans, and brushes his lips against hers. “Do you know how fucking crazy it made me to know you were sitting there in his lap, not wearing panties? Thinking about someone else getting their hands on you? Thinking about you calling someone else daddy?”

“He barely touched me,” Clarke promises. “But he did get an erection.”

Bellamy growls. “I should cut his dick off for that,” he says. “But I suppose I can’t really blame him. Not when you’re looking like that, when you do the same thing to me.” He takes her hand and presses it firmly against his crotch, where she can feel him rock hard beneath her touch.

“Is that all for me, Daddy?”

“You know it is,” Bellamy murmurs, leaning in to nip at her lips. “I don’t want him thinking he can have you. I want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“ _I_ know I’m yours, isn’t that enough?”

“For now,” Bellamy agrees. “But perhaps I better remind you who you belong to, huh? Just in case?”

Clarke’s breath sticks in her throat. “Here?” Bellamy nods. “We don’t have enough time,” Clarke whispers. “The others will wonder where we are.”

“You underestimate how fucking horny I am right now,” Bellamy says. “And you won’t be coming. Only me.”

Clarke pouts. “Daddy,” she whines.

“This is your punishment for making me keep you a secret for so long,” he says. “And if you’re a good girl all weekend you can have as many orgasms as you want when we get back.”

Clarke wants to protest, but she knows he won’t change his mind, and if she complains he’ll just make her wait longer. “Yes, Daddy,” she agrees sullenly, doing a bad impression of an obedient girlfriend.

“Good,” he says, but his raised eyebrow says _watch your tone_. “On your knees.”

Clarke sinks to her knees, watching as Bellamy frees his erection from his pants. Clarke opens her mouth to him, and he shoves his cock in roughly, making her gag. It’s not the first time she’s gotten on her knees for him in a public restroom and she doubts it will be the last.

“That’s it, baby, choke on my cock,” he says. “Love how you look on your knees for me, taking my big cock in your mouth. Love having cock in your mouth, don’t you baby?”

Clarke gives an affirmative hum in response, and he groans. She really does love having him in her mouth, loves it when she can take her time, savouring the taste of him, licking him all over, putting her mouth on his balls. This time though, she doesn’t have to do much, and she loves that too. He uses her mouth and throat vigorously, like she’s nothing more than a hole to stick his cock in, a means to an end.

He grabs her hair in his fists, holding her head in place. His balls slap against her chin, and his cock hits the back of her throat over and over, until he comes, shooting his load down her waiting throat. He pulls out, rubbing his cock over her lips as he does so, smearing his come on her face. She licks it off as he tucks his cock away.

“What do you say, baby girl?” he says.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she says.

“Good girl.”

He helps her up, then kisses the remaining come off her face. “I love you,” he says.

“I love you too, Daddy.”

“Come on,” Bellamy says. “Before someone comes looking for us.”

They exit the restrooms together, and Clarke itches to take his hand. Not yet. They can’t do that yet.

As they head back outside, Clarke spots Octavia coming towards them, meeting them halfway across the parking lot. Thank God she hadn’t come any sooner.

“Seriously, what took you so long?” she huffs. “Finn started talking about his not-for-profit work. It’s extremely boring.”

“There was a line,” Bellamy says smoothly. “By the way, I’m banishing you to the backseat. It was shitty of you to force Finn onto Clarke like that.”

“She doesn’t need _you_ to fight her battles for her.”

Octavia is right, but Clarke likes it when he does. “Well you wouldn’t listen to _me,”_ Clarke snorts. “Maybe you’ll listen to your brother. I do not want anything to do with Finn. Got it?”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I was just trying to do you a favour. You can have the front seat if it means that much to you.”

They get back to the car, and Octavia takes the back seat, settling into Lincoln’s lap, while Clarke slides into the front seat, next to Bellamy, where she belongs.

-

The rest of the car trip is uneventful, apart from the fact that Finn doesn’t shut up, and Octavia was right, he’s boring as hell.

The campsite is an isolated clearing in a pine forest, a bumpy dirt road leading them to their destination. The track runs around a lake, and Clarke can see glimpses of the glittering water every now and again when the trees thin out a little.

They’re the last ones to the campsite. The others are already in the midst of setting up tents and digging a firepit. The thing Clarke notices first is that there are three other cars there, and only ten people. No reason Echo and/or Finn couldn’t have ridden with Raven or with Monty or with Miller.

The second thing she notices is that their entire group is made up of couples—except Finn and Echo, of course. And being that no one here knows that Clarke and Bellamy are together, the presence of Finn and Echo starts to make even more sense. Yes, Octavia had already admitted that she was trying to set Clarke up with Finn. But is she seriously trying to get Echo and Bellamy back together as well?

“What took you so long?” Raven yells as the six of them bundle out of the car, looking up from where she’s hammering in a tent peg.

“Bellamy had to pee,” Octavia grumbles.

They start unpacking their gear, and it’s not until Bellamy is setting up his tent that Clarke has a horrible realisation. She didn’t pack a tent. She didn’t pack a tent because a) she doesn’t own a tent, and b) Bellamy was bringing a tent, and a few hours ago the plan had been to share with him, since their relationship would no longer be a secret.

She’s about to try and surreptitiously voice this concern to Bellamy, when Murphy does it for her.

“Are you two sharing?” he says, that usual mocking edge to his voice. Clarke tries to fight off a blush.

“No,” Bellamy says flatly. “I’m lending her my tent. Figured I’d just sleep in the back of my car.”

“Well, she could at least help you,” Emori interjects. The two of them appear to be done with setting up, and are now sitting around the firepit, which as of yet doesn’t contain a fire, or even any kindling or firewood.

“I’m helping,” Clarke says defensively. If standing around holding tent pegs counts as helping. But seriously, fuck, it’s not like it’s any of Emori’s business. Clarke has spent her whole life doing shit for other people, in her job, in her friendships, in her family. Is it so fucking bad if she lets Bellamy do things for her now and again? Especially when he so obviously adores doing things for her, loves treating her like a princess, gets off on it, even.

But their friends don’t know that, of course. They know nothing about their relationship, and that’s by design. Sure, part of the reason they kept it a secret was to spare Echo’s feelings and their own reputations, but another big part is just so they could be together without the prying eyes of their friends prodding them or judging them or teasing them. 

Clarke helps Bellamy set up the rest of the tent and then to go and look for pinecones to use as kindling for the fire. Or at least, that’s what they’re telling their friends. Thankfully, everyone else is either too busy or too lazy to join them.

They leave the campsite with a conscious three feet between them, both of them holding focus on the trees in front of them, Clarke forcing herself not to look over her shoulder every five seconds to see if they’re alone yet.

The pines are thick around them, and in eight of Bellamy’s strides and double that of Clarke’s, they’re swallowed by the trees. Bellamy does a surreptitious glance behind them, just to make sure, and then closes the gap between them, taking Clarke’s hand in his. They ignore the abundance of pinecones scattered around the base of the trees in favour of taking a romantic stroll through the woods.

Bellamy squeezes her hand, and Clarke forgets about her annoyance at Emori and Murphy, and her anxiety over Octavia finding out about their relationship. It’s just the two of them in this peaceful moment.

“You don’t have to give me your tent,” Clarke says. “I’ll sleep in the car.”

“No, baby, of course not,” Bellamy says, rubbing his thumb over her hand. “I don’t mind sleeping in the car, I’ve done it before. And I packed more than enough pillows and blankets, so there will be enough for both of us.”

“I wish we could sleep together.”

“Does this mean you’re ready to tell?”

Clarke chews her lip. Part of her wants to say yes, and screw what Octavia thinks. But she just can’t do it. She’s never been one to talk openly about her sex life with her friends, and to be honest, she still finds it a little shameful that she’s into the daddy thing. It had taken a lot to admit it to herself, and then it was a little easier to admit it to Bellamy, mostly because he brought it up first, like he somehow knew she was desperate to call him that but didn’t know how to tell him.

But even Octavia’s semi-disgusted reaction this morning is enough for Clarke. She doesn’t need to be ridiculed for something so personal, for something that brings her comfort, for something she already feels self-conscious about.

“Not yet,” she says, feeling guilty that she’s making him hide their relationship when he clearly doesn’t want to. He gives her hand another squeeze.

“It’s okay,” he promises, picking up on her guilt. “Whenever you’re ready, okay?”

Clarke nods. “Does this mean my punishment is lifted?”

He laughs at her. A gentle, affectionate laugh, but it’s at her expense all the same. She pouts, and he stops walking, turning towards her.

“No, baby,” he says. “The punishment is still in effect.” He kisses the tip of her nose, then brushes his lips against hers.

“Please, Daddy,” she whines. Her thighs are slick with her arousal, and his kisses only enflame her already rampant desire.

“What’s the matter?” he teases. “You can’t be this desperate already. I made you come this morning.”

“Are you saying you don’t want to fuck me?” She pulls back from him, just enough so she can drag her dress up her thighs, show him her bare, swollen pussy. She draws a low, agonised groan from him, and she exults in the reaction.

“Look at how fucking wet you are,” he growls, reaching out to touch her. “Your needy little pussy can’t go a few hours without me, huh?”

“No, Daddy,” Clarke says, and she’s sure she’s won, that he’s going to give in and fuck her on top of the thick bed of pine needles beneath them. “I need your cock inside me. Please.”

He shakes his head, pushing two thick fingers into her aching cunt. “That’s too bad, baby girl. You know I don’t rescind my punishments.”

She pulses around his motionless fingers, but when she tries to rock herself on them, create some friction he removes his hand entirely, eliciting a pitiful whine from her lips as she drops her dress back down.

“I thought you were going to be a good girl for me,” he warns. “I don’t want to have to extend the punishment.”

“I am being good,” Clarke sasses back.

“You aren’t.”

“Can’t we come up with a different punishment, Daddy? You could spank me instead. Or choke me.”

His eyes flash, and in a moment, he has his huge hand wrapped around her neck. Clarke’s heart jumpstarts, something spasming between her cunt and her stomach.

Bellamy presses his fingers and thumb into her neck, only slightly, teasing her, not applying enough pressure to actually choke her. He leans in close, his breath against her ear.

“We both know that wouldn’t be a punishment,” he whispers. “I will only choke you when you’ve been very, very good.” Clarke whimpers, and he lets her go. “Now, are you going to be good for me? Or do I have to make your punishment worse? Should I ignore you entirely?”

The very thought of being without his attention distresses her, and she quickly shakes her head. “No, Daddy,” she says. “I’ll be good.”

He nods, satisfied. “We should get back before anyone notices we didn’t bring anything to put the pinecones in. And I want you in some proper clothes. I can’t think straight with you dressed like that.”

Back at camp, their absence has been barely noted, and no one mentions the fact they failed to bring back a single pinecone. Clarke slips into her tent and changes out of her dress and into a more practical t-shirt and pair of shorts. She even puts on a bra, though she remains panty-less. Mostly because she didn’t actually pack any.

Octavia ambushes her as she steps out of her tent, before she can seek out her daddy’s approval for her new outfit. Annoyance flits across Clarke’s face, but she thinks she manages to smooth it out before Octavia notices.

“Oh good, you’re ready,” Octavia says.

“For what?”

“It’s time for a hike. We’re all going.”

“Maybe someone should stay here and make sure we don’t get robbed.”

“We’re _all_ going,” Octavia repeats, more like a threat this time. “That includes you.”

Clarke blows out a puff of air, and glances across the campsite to where Bellamy is standing with Raven and Shaw, the three of them obviously ready to go. If he’s going on the hike, there’s really no reason for her to stay behind, other than her own dislike of walking just for the sake of walking.

“Fine,” she agrees, as if Octavia had really been giving her a choice in the matter. “Has anyone thought about food? If we’re going to be gone over lunch, we should bring something.”

No one, of course, has thought about food, and after packing the sandwiches Clarke had made last night and put in Bellamy’s fridge, the group sets off, all sixteen of them, traipsing through the forest, their chatter and footfalls spoiling the serenity a little. As they walk, they seem to naturally split up into groups, the fitter, more enthusiastic hikers at the front, with Clarke trailing along behind, Finn falling into step beside her, much to her chagrin.

She casts a forlorn look at Bellamy, leading the charge, just as he glances back at her. He’s clearly not happy about their separation either, and yet they both know they can’t spend too much time together without making it obvious why they want to. Echo trails behind him like an imprinted duckling. This is so not the weekend Clarke imagined.

Slowly, she becomes aware that Finn is speaking to her, though he must not have required any encouragement from her, as he hasn’t noticed she hasn’t heard a word he’s said. She tunes back in, but she can’t quite make sense of what he’s saying, and thankfully Octavia does something useful for once and interrupts.

“Get lost, Finn,” she says, dropping back from where she was walking with Lincoln to walk with Clarke instead. “I have important matters to discuss with Clarke.”

Finn looks a little bewildered, but Octavia has her mean face on, so he quickly skips ahead to catch up with Monty, Jasper, Harper, and Maya.

“So how long have you been seeing him?” Octavia asks, once Finn is out of earshot. “It’s a him, right?”

Clarke realises perhaps the conversation with Finn would have been preferable to this.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I don’t get why you’re being so secretive. Unless it’s someone I know. Someone I wouldn’t approve of.”

“It’s no one you know,” Clarke says quickly.

“So just tell me about him,” Octavia says, exasperated. “And I’ll leave you alone.”

Clarke groans, but she knows Octavia won’t leave her alone until she’s satisfied. Clarke figures it can’t hurt to give her friend some minor details, things that won’t betray Bellamy’s identity.

“Five months,” Clarke says, sticking to the lie she and Bellamy had agreed upon.

“ _Five months_? How the fuck have you kept it a secret so long?”

Clarke shrugs. “We’re good at sneaking around. He never comes over, I always go to his. I always tell you I’m hanging out with work friends.”

“Clever,” Octavia snorts. “So is it serious? Or just some weird kinky sex where you pretend he’s your father?”

“Okay, I’m done talking about this.”

“No, come on, I’m just kidding around,” Octavia says. “But seriously, I really don’t get the daddy thing. It’s so creepy.”

Clarke doesn’t get a chance to answer. Their conversation is interrupted by Echo, who has dropped back for what seems to be specifically to talk to them, and Clarke isn’t sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

“Random question,” Echo says, clearly trying to be nonchalant, but failing miserably. “Is Bellamy seeing anyone? Has he been with anyone else since we broke up?”

Clarke clamps her mouth shut, not trusting herself not to stake her claim on him, or tell Echo to keep her filthy paws off him.

“Not that I know of,” Octavia says. “Not that I keep tabs on my brother’s sex life. But he definitely doesn’t have a serious girlfriend.”

“As far as I can tell, he hasn’t even been hooking up with anyone. I know he used to be kind of a player before me. Do you think he might still be hung up on me?”

Clarke can’t stop the scornful snort that statement elicits. “He broke up with _you_ , remember?” she points out.

Echo bristles. “Yeah, but his reasons were extremely thin. Like _I just don’t think we’re a good fit for each other_? What does that even mean? I think he got scared about how serious we were getting. And now he regrets it.”

Clarke, of course, knows this isn’t the case, considering twenty minutes before he dumped Echo, Clarke had been drunkenly and embarrassingly confessing her surely unrequited feelings for him. And an hour later she was in his bed, his head between her legs. But she can’t exactly tell Echo that.

“I highly doubt it,” Clarke sniffs.

“I don’t know,” Octavia muses. “She might be onto something. He does seem different lately. Not sad or moping exactly. Actually, he seems happier than I’ve seen him in a long time. But he does seem more…determined? Like he’s trying to get his life together. Like he’s trying to impress someone.”

“Maybe he thought he wasn’t good enough for me before, and he’s trying to better himself for me before we get back together. And he’s happy because he knows we’re finally there and we can finally be together,” Echo gushes.

Clarke has never wanted to hurt someone so badly. First off, Bellamy has _always_ been too good for Echo. He’s too good for Clarke, too, probably. But at least she knows that, at least she’s not trying to attribute his happiness and hard work to something _she_ did. Echo has got to be the most self-centred, delusional person Clarke has ever met.

She decides escaping this conversation is worth the pain in her thighs she’ll endure later for pushing herself too hard, and hurries to catch up with Miller and Bryan, not willing to listen to Echo for another second longer.

After an hour of walking, they decide to take a break, leaving the cover of the forest and stepping out onto the pebbled shores of the lake. Octavia is the first to pull off her clothes and run into the freezing water in her underwear, followed closely by Murphy, Emori, and Finn, and then Echo, who conspicuously checks to make sure Bellamy is watching before she takes her clothes off. His eyes barely linger on her before landing on Clarke, as if waiting for her to do the same so he can admire her in her underwear. Which, unfortunately, she isn’t wearing.

Bellamy makes his way over to her, stopping a casual distance from her. A normal, friendly distance.

“Not going in?” he asks.

Clarke shakes her head. “I can’t,” she admits. “I didn’t put panties on.”

He eyes her sternly. “I told you to put proper clothes on.”

“I did,” Clarke says. “But I didn’t pack any panties. I didn’t think I’d need them.”

“Wanted to be ready for me at all times, did you, baby? Give me easy access to your needy little pussy?”

Clarke nods. “Yes, Daddy.”

“Probably for the best you’re keeping your clothes on. Can’t say I’d be subtle if you were out here in your underwear in front of everyone. It was bad enough in that dress, Finn staring at your tits, your nipples all hard. I don’t want anyone else even thinking about touching you.”

“You can’t help what other people think,” Clarke points out.

“No,” he agrees. “Neither can you.” And with that, he’s pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his golden brown chest, and it isn’t fair, because Clarke isn’t allowed to touch him right now, but it’s all she wants to do.

He drops his pants next, and shucks his shoes and socks, leaving him in a pair of form-fitting boxers. Clarke has seen him more naked than this before, and yet she finds herself blushing, her core pulsing with need at the sight of his hard, mostly nude body, and the obvious bulge between his legs. Fuck, she needs his cock.

He seems to read her thoughts, and he smirks at her, smug and teasing, before turning and striding towards the water so she can admire his magnificent ass. Sometimes she questions how somebody _that_ hot can possibly want to be with her.

She watches him dive into the water, then quickly averts her eyes, lest someone notice her ogling him.

Lincoln pulls out one of the picnic blankets Clarke suggested they bring, and Clarke joins him on it, with Miller and Bryan, while Monty and Jasper spread the another one on the ground a little way down the beach, their girlfriends unpacking the food.

Eventually the swimmers take a break for food, and watching Bellamy walk out of the water, dripping wet, his boxers now completely moulded to the shape of his cock, is even worse than watching him get in. Clarke’s breathing is shallow and all she can think about is getting her mouth on him.

Instead, she just complains he’s dripping water on her as he sits beside her on the picnic blanket, and he responds by shaking his wet hair at her.

After lunch, the group packs up and heads back to camp, taking twice as long to return as it had to get there in the first place, since everyone is feeling lethargic from food and sun and swimming, except for Octavia, who seems to have boundless amounts of energy.

The afternoon is spent lazily, Clarke curling up in a chair by the still non-existent fire with a book, some of the others settling themselves by the lake to go fishing, Bellamy with them. Murphy and Emori retreat to their tent, and Raven and Shaw take their kayaks out onto the water.

The sun is beginning to set when Bellamy is the first one back from the lake, and Clarke is still sitting alone by the firepit. He glances around, then steals a kiss, before presenting a small handful of white and purple wildflowers with a flourish.

Clarke beams up at him, taking the flowers. “You picked me flowers? You’re so stupid. I love you.” She makes sure to keep her voice low, so Murphy and Emori don’t overhear from where they may or may not be asleep in their tent.

Bellamy grins. “I love you too. Here,” he plucks one of the flowers from the bouquet, a delicate, violet coloured wild geranium, and tucks it behind her ear.

“Smooth,” she teases, pretending she’s not absolutely swooning under his attention. “I wish it was just us,” she whispers.

“Me too,” he agrees. He looks ready to kiss her again, but the sound of approaching voices stops him, makes him reel away from her, as the rest of the fishing expedition returns, along with Raven and Shaw.

“I’m hungry!” Jasper announces, which is met with several murmurs of agreement.

“I’ll get the fire started,” Bellamy says, since it appears no one else is willing to do it.

With the fire blazing, ten minutes later, food is the next thing on the agenda. Octavia and Lincoln insist on cooking their food over the fire, while everyone else is happy to share Raven’s camp stove.

After dinner, they congregate around the fire, and Emori delves into a ghost story that actually has the hairs on Clarke’s arms standing on end. She’s trying to enjoy herself, but everyone is coupled up, and Echo has cosied up to Bellamy’s side, the arm of her chair touching his. Clarke wants to march over there and sit in her boyfriend’s inviting looking lap, make Echo look the fool she is. She makes do with longing stares at him, which he meets with frequency, and it’s a wonder no one calls them out right then and there for how obvious they’re being.

Copious amounts of alcohol are consumed, and the conversation turns from scary stories to idle gossip. Harper’s co-worker is pregnant, but everyone is pretty sure the husband isn’t the father. Murphy and Emori have been stealing their neighbour’s garden gnomes for the past month.

And then Octavia pipes up.

“I have much more exciting gossip than that,” she sings, casting a glance at Clarke. Clarke’s blood runs cold, and she shakes her head, willing Octavia to keep her mouth shut. But Octavia either doesn’t see the warning or chooses to ignore it, because she blurts it out anyway. “Clarke has a secret boyfriend!”

The statement sparks a cacophony of questions, everyone unable to keep their reactions to themselves. “ _Who is it?”_ seems to be the most common question, but there is also _when did this happen? Why is it a secret?_ and _why did you tell Octavia and not me?_

The latter is the only question Clarke is really willing to answer. She’s not as drunk as everyone else seems to be, and this game isn’t fun at all for her.

“I didn’t _tell_ Octavia,” Clarke huffs. “She’s a nosy bitch who snooped on my phone.”

“You left it on the counter! If you really didn’t want anyone to know you wouldn’t have made his contact name _daddy,_ you dirty pervert.”

Clarke absolutely wants to die. The revelation of the D word sends her friends into another frenzy of questions and teasing.

“Clarke has a _daddy_ kink?”

“I think that makes her boyfriend the pervert.”

“I bet he’s like fifty. Clarke, we’re going to save you from this creep.”

“Does he give you money and buy you shit? Isn’t that what the whole daddy thing is about?”

“That’s a sugar daddy, you fucking idiot.”

“Wait, daddy kink is a real thing? I thought it was a joke. Please tell me it’s a joke.”

Clarke isn’t in the mood. She’s usually better at taking a joke, at not taking herself too seriously. But her relationship with Bellamy isn’t a joke. It means more to her than anything else in her life right now, and she can’t bear her friends making fun of her for it.

“Thanks, Octavia,” Clarke says bitterly, tears pricking her eyes. “Now I’m a fucking joke to all our friends, because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.”

Octavia is unapologetic. “You’re the one doing father/daughter roleplay in the bedroom.”

“That’s not what it is,” Clarke snaps. “It’s just—he makes me feel safe, okay? And he takes care of me. And he treats me like a fucking princess, which I think I deserve after the shitty relationships I’ve had. And yes, I think it’s sexy to call him daddy but I don’t see how that’s any of your business. Sorry you’re all stuck with boring, vanilla sex once a week.”

The group has fallen silent, and at least half of them have the decency to look sheepish. Clarke is still feeling awkward as hell, and she’s still not ready for everyone to know that Bellamy is the man in question, but she doesn’t _want_ to be ashamed of it. She hopes her outburst will get them to back off a little.

Bellamy has remained silent through all of this, though she knows it must be killing him to keep his mouth shut. She doesn’t even dare look at him, knowing she’ll give herself away. All she wants is to bury her head in his chest and have him hold her and comfort her.

She can’t though, so she simply stalks off to her tent, leaving her friends whispering behind her. Bellamy messages her as soon as she’s up from her seat, but she waits until the tent is zipped up behind her before she checks them.

**_Baby, I’m sorry. Do you want me to come and see you? Make it better?_ **

Yes, that’s absolutely want she wants. But she’s not sure it would make it better right now. More than likely it will just get them more teasing.

**_No, I’m okay. I’m not ready for them to know it’s you yet._ **

**_I can’t stand seeing you upset_ **

**_I know. I’m okay, I promise._ **

**_Just tired, need to sleep it off_ **

**_I love you_ **

**_I love you too, daddy._ **

-

Clarke is woken by a gentle rhythm pattering down on the roof of the tent. Rain. The forecast had predicted a small chance, but they’d all been hoping it wouldn’t happen. It doesn’t sound heavy, and Clarke presumes it will clear up by the time anyone is ready to get up.

But an hour later she’s hungry and she needs to pee, and it’s still raining. She drags herself out of her tent, dressed in the sweatpants and t-shirt she slept in, and a pair of flip flops, then trudges out into the forest to find a private place to pee.

When she returns, Octavia is crouched by the coals of the fire, still glowing despite the rain.

“Do you think it’s going to let up?” Octavia asks, poking the embers with a stick. “Lincoln and I were going to borrow Raven and Shaw’s kayaks for the day.”

Clarke shrugs, glancing towards the sky. It’s only drizzling now, but it does look darker in the distance, over the lake. “Probably not.”

Octavia stands up, wiping her hands on her jeans. “We’re good, right?”

Clarke rolls her eyes at Octavia’s version of an apology. Normally she’d just accept it, but she doesn’t feel like making nice just yet.

“An apology would be nice.”

“What for?”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I don’t get what you’re so upset about. So we made fun of you a bit, that’s what friends do. There’s no need to be so sensitive about it,” Octavia sniffs.

“You embarrassed me in front of everyone.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t be embarrassed about it.”

Clarke doesn’t know how to respond to that. Part of her wants to hit Octavia for being so fucking insensitive. Part of her thinks she might be right.

“I think we’ll still go kayaking,” Octavia decides, then she flounces off, the conversation over.

A moment later, Bellamy’s firm, familiar arm wraps around Clarke’s waist, and he presses a brief kiss to her temple.

“Sorry about her.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I’ve been her only parental figure since she was fifteen, I feel like it has to be partly my fault,” he says dryly.

“You’re saying she was any better before that?”

He tilts his head, conceding the point. Octavia has always been this way. Unapologetically selfish.

Regardless, Clarke knows that Bellamy will still always bear the brunt of the blame for whatever trouble his sister causes. Clarke loves his selflessness, but she also wishes he’d take care of himself more. She supposes she’ll just have to love him enough for the both of them, since he clearly has trouble doing it himself. When they finally live together, she’s going to be the most unfeminist, worshipful, doting girlfriend. A home cooked meal and a blow job every morning and evening. Of course, she’ll have to learn how to cook properly first.

The sound of a tent zipper makes them spring apart, if only a few inches.

“Meet me in the car later,” Bellamy whispers, his voice so low and husky it makes her shiver. “Don’t let anyone see you,” he adds, before heading towards one of the coolers full of food so he can make breakfast.

Monty appears from the four-man tent he’s sharing with Harper, Jasper, and Maya.

“Still raining,” he notes.

Harper pokes her head out of the tent behind him. “It’s not too bad, we can still go. And it might clear up later.”

“We’re going foraging for mushrooms,” Monty explains to Clarke’s confused expression. “Hopefully we can cook some tonight, along with the fish we’re definitely going to catch today.” Evidently, they’d been unsuccessful with their fishing yesterday.

The sky above is even darker by the time breakfast is out of the way, but that doesn’t deter those who’d made plans for the day, despite the fact that the light drizzle might turn into a downpour at any moment.

Monty, Jasper, Harper, and Maya set out into the forest to go foraging, and Finn decides he’ll tag along. He’s kept his distance from Clarke after last night’s revelation, much to her relief.

Octavia and Lincoln take to the lake, and Raven and Shaw are going on another hike. Murphy and Emori are yet to emerge from their tent, and Miller and Bryan retreat back to theirs after breakfast. Echo tries to get Bellamy to go with her on Raven and Shaw’s hike, but he claims he’s still tired and wants to nap, so she ends up copying Finn and joining the foraging expedition.

Clarke makes a show of going back to her tent after breakfast, announcing that she’s going to finally finish her book today. She’s giddy with excitement, thinking about sneaking into Bellamy’s car after everyone has gone so they can finally be alone together.

It’s a good thing Clarke hadn’t actually been planning on staying in her tent, seeing as most of the bedding appears to have been taken, by Bellamy, she presumes, though she hadn’t noticed him do it.

She pulls off the clothes she slept in, and wriggles in to something prettier, another dress completely unsuitable for camping, let alone camping in this weather. This one is patterned with little blue flowers, with a little cut out below her breasts, showing off a small triangle of skin. She waits in her tent until she’s sure the campsite is empty, then ducks her head out to double check, before skipping over to Bellamy’s car.

He’s got the back door open already, waiting for her. The back seat has been pushed down flat, and the space has been filled with pillows and blankets, looking all the more cosy with Bellamy sitting there in a soft looking t-shirt. He’s strung up battery operated fairy lights, and he’s scattered more of those wildflowers over the blankets.

Clarke feels a rush of affection for him, and he looks so pleased with himself as she takes in the romantic setup before her.

“Come here,” he says gruffly, reaching for her hands and pulling her into the car. “You’re getting all wet.”

He shuts the door behind her, and then the string lights are the only source of illumination, since he’s blacked out all the windows with sheets.

“What were you thinking, wearing this in that weather?” he scolds light-heartedly, tugging at the hem of her damp dress.

“I wanted to look pretty for you, Daddy.”

“You’re always pretty to me, baby. Let’s get this off you, hm? Otherwise you’ll catch your death.”

Clarke nods and he helps her out of her dress, leaving her naked. His eyes linger on her tits, between her legs, but he doesn’t touch her yet.

He pulls off his shirt and boxers, so he’s naked too, and bundles her up in his arms, his body heat seeping into her skin, warming her right to the core, until simple skin on skin contact isn’t enough, and she needs more. She rubs her thighs together, trying to be discreet, knowing she can’t ask him for what she wants because he’s already told her no, and if she asks again, he’ll just call her a brat and deny her further.

“You’ve recovered, I take it?” he murmurs against her hair, the deep timbre of his voice rumbling through her body. He clearly hasn’t missed her tiny little movements.

“Yes, Daddy,” she says.

“All warm and happy? Got everything you need?”

“Almost everything.”

She can feel him, jutting into her ass cheek, tantalising her with what she can’t have, even though he clearly wants it too. He’s even more stubborn than she is sometimes.

He strokes her thigh softly under the blankets, and Clarke struggles not to squirm, to keep the true of extent of her need hidden, though the slow, heavy thudding between her legs is almost unbearable.

“Oh?” he says, feigning ignorance. “What else do you need, baby?” Clarke hesitates. “Go on, you can say.”

“I need your cock, Daddy,” she breathes, daring to hope he might actually give it to her. “Please. I need it so bad, my pussy is so empty. I need to come, need you to come in me.” She lays it on thick, knowing he likes it when she begs.

He shifts, letting her roll onto her back, positioning himself on top of her, his erection pressed against her dripping cunt, slipping into her folds just slightly. Her breath catches, and her body arches towards him of its own accord.

“And what do you think you’ve done to deserve it?”

“Haven’t I been good?”

“No, baby, you haven’t been anything close to good,” he chuckles. “Walking around camp without any panties on. Putting on this dress when I specifically told you to wear proper clothes. Looking at me like I’ve neglected you, like you haven’t absolutely deserved this punishment. And the way you look at Echo like you want to set her on fire is going to get us caught if you’re not careful.”

Clarke pouts. “She thinks you still want her. That you’re going to get back together.”

“Baby, are you jealous?” he teases. “You know I only want you.”

“Of course I am,” Clarke huffs. “She’s all over you. _I_ want to be all over you.”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“You could at least tell her to back off,” Clarke says sulkily. “That you’re not interested. Unless you’re _trying_ to make me jealous.”

“Maybe I am, a little bit,” he grins.

“Asshole,” Clarke bites back.

“Brat,” Bellamy scolds, reaching down between them to give her a light spank on her pussy. Clarke squeaks, her legs opening of their own accord, arousal rushing from her cunt. “Is that any way to speak to your Daddy? And to think I was just about to lift your punishment.”

“Really?” Clarke says, excited. “But you said I haven’t been good.”

“No,” he agrees. “But I think you deserve a little treat after last night. Couldn’t sleep knowing you were upset, all alone in that tent without me.”

“So this is a pity fuck.”

“Are you too good for a pity fuck?” Clarke shakes her head. At this point, she’ll take it however she can get it. “That’s what I thought. Needy little thing, doesn’t matter why you’re getting cock, as long as your pussy is satisfied, huh?”

“Only your cock, Daddy,” she amends.

“Good,” Bellamy growls. He captures her lips in a searing kiss then, and it’s almost like he’s been as desperate for this as she has, like he’s been holding himself back, looking for an excuse to go back on the punishment he’s implemented.

His tongue pushes into her mouth, and Clarke accepts him greedily. His hands wander, glancing across her skin, as if he can’t quite decide where he wants to touch her first. The blankets fall away, but it’s hot enough in here now that it doesn’t matter, the heat from their skin is enough.

“God, you have no idea the amount of self-control it’s taken not to do this sooner,” Bellamy mumbles, his lips still on hers. His hands find her tits, finally settling, squeezing, rolling her nipples under his palms. “Teasing me all day yesterday.”

Clarke resists the urge to point out that _he_ was the one doing most of the teasing. She’s too close to getting what she wants to risk jeopardising that now.

“Sorry, Daddy,” she says instead, sweetly. A little too sweetly to be believable perhaps, because he gives her another little slap on her pussy, yanking his mouth away from hers as she yelps.

“Stopped myself from kissing you so many times. Kept thinking about all the things I want to do to you.”

“What things?”

“I want to kiss you in front of everyone,” he says. “Go skinny dipping in the lake. Want to finger you in my lap where everyone can see. Want them all to know what a good little girl you are for me.” As he speaks, he strokes her between her legs, up and down her slit, soaking his fingers with her arousal.

“Daddy,” she protests, squirming. “They can’t know. Please. Not like that.”

“I know, baby,” he says. “Don’t worry, nobody’s gonna find out. But you’ve got to stay quiet, can you do that?”

Clarke nods frantically, though she knows she absolutely can’t. When he’s inside her she seems to lose control of her vocal cords. He knows her better than that though, and he gives a chuckle of disbelief.

“We both know that isn’t true,” he says. “Only way to make sure you’re quiet is to put something in your mouth.”

He takes his dripping fingers from her cunt, and pushes them into her mouth, making her taste herself. She sucks at his fingers greedily, though the taste of herself doesn’t particularly turn her on, but she knows it turns _him_ on to watch her do it, and that’s the goal here anyway. She’s already fucking horny as hell—she just needs to make him lose control and fuck her already.

“That’s it, baby, lick them clean. Good girl. Such a good girl, aren’t you?”

Clarke hums a sound of assent, which turns into a longing moan when she feels her cock against her entrance again. She cries out as he thrusts into her, the sound muffled only slightly by his fingers in her mouth.

“Just can’t keep quiet, can you?” he teases. Clarke’s brain can’t form a coherent response, not with him pulsing inside her like that, filling her up so deeply with his massive cock that she never seems to get used to. Every time is better than the last, the more they know each other, the deeper their bond, the more connected she feels to him, the harder he can make her come.

He takes his fingers from her mouth, then splays both hands across her stomach, before sliding them up her waist excruciatingly slowly, until he’s cupping her tits. She doesn’t dare move, though she’s desperate to fuck herself on his cock, wedged inside her, splitting her open, her knees hooked around him. It’s agonizing, in the best possible way.

She expects him to linger on her tits, but after briefly tweaking her nipples, he moves on, his hands continuing upward, until he curls one gently around her throat, the other pinning her wrist to the air mattress beneath them. She whimpers as his fingertips dig into her neck ever so slightly, her cunt fluttering around his cock. God, it’s so fucking hot how he only needs one hand to wrap almost all the way around her neck.

“I could choke you,” he muses, so casually, like he doesn’t know what even the thought of it does to her. “That would keep you quiet.”

“Please,” she rasps. “Choke me, Daddy. I promise I’ll be good from now on.”

“No, you won’t,” he says. “But it’s okay. I love you even when you’re naughty. Maybe especially when you’re naughty.”

He kisses her, or it’s something like a kiss, more teeth than lips, and with his hands and mouth on her, and his cock inside her, he lets her know she belongs to him.

His hand tightens around her neck, only slightly, as he begins to thrust, finally giving her neglected pussy what it needs. He’s a little brutal as he fucks her, and she doesn’t know if it’s for her benefit or his, after both of them feeling so repressed for the last twenty-four hours. She relishes it regardless, and a moan escapes her lips, making him grip her neck tighter, finally pressing hard enough to restrict her breathing.

She surrenders to him, to his strength, his power, puts him in control of her life and her pleasure. His hand around her throat doesn’t stop her from voicing her pleasure, though the lack of oxygen makes her head spin and her vision blur. She’s not _loud_ but she’s insistent, whining and moaning every time his cock hits her just right, and through her delirium she thinks their movements might be rocking the car, unless he’s just fucking her so hard it _feels_ like the whole car is moving.

His hand tightens even further, and Clarke gasps for breath, writhing underneath him, the coil in her belly so tight and hot she knows she’s about to come, and Bellamy’s grunts of exertion let her know that he’s close too.

“Come on, baby,” he growls. “Come on my cock. God, I fucking love having my hand wrapped around your throat, knowing you trust me like that. Look so pretty beneath me, taking my cock like a good girl.”

It’s some combination of his rough voice, his strong hands, his cock slamming into her, and feeling like she’s on the verge of passing out that breaks her, making her cry out as her orgasm wracks her body, his hand loosening slightly around her neck as she arches towards him, her breasts crushing against his chest.

He lets out a shuddering moan and he releases himself into her, and it’s been barely a day since they last did this, but the way her body responds it may as well have been months.

She tries to speak, to tell him how good it feels, but all that comes out is a pathetic whimper.

He grunts in response, the last of his semen spurting into her, his thrusts slowing to a stop. He removes his hand from her neck, and loosens his grip on her wrist, as she blinks up at him, dazed, satisfied, blissed out.

“You okay?” he asks.

She nods. “Yes, Daddy,” she whispers.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. He leans down to kiss her neck, feather-light, his fingers gently stroking her wrist and side.

He slips out of her as he softens, pulling her into his arms again, lips never leaving her skin for more than a second. She loves this about him—that he can go from so dominating, so rough and forceful, to so sweet and gentle, his demeanour switching instantly to suit her needs.

“I love you,” he whispers. Thunder cracks outside, making Clarke jump, and the rain is thundering on the roof of the car. “Don’t worry,” Bellamy says. “I’ve got you. And trust me, no one heard us over all of that.”

Clarke snuggles into his arms, feeling safe and content with him, like he’s always made her feel as long as she’s known him, before they even started dating.

“You know,” she says quietly. “I think—I think it wouldn’t so bad if we told everyone. I want everyone to know I’m yours.”

“Yeah? But what about Octavia? You won’t be embarrassed she knows I’m your daddy?”

“A bit, at first,” Clarke admits. “But even if we wait months, she’ll probably figure it out anyway. And I don’t want to hide in the dark with you any longer. I want you to kiss me whenever you feel like it. And finger me _secretly_ in public.”

He chuckles. “I’d love that.”

The rain starts to ease, and Clarke knows they should get dressed before anyone can figure out what they’ve been up to. Yes, she’s ready to tell the truth, but their friends don’t need to know that he fucked her in the back of his car all morning.

But she already wants him again, and he’s hard again too, so she wraps her hand around his cock, guiding him to where she wants him. He doesn’t object, and he pushes into her from behind, his hands on her tits, and she matches his gentle rhythm, their hips moving in sync.

She’s about to reach her second orgasm of the day, slower and milder than the first, but still something she craves, when the back door of the car is pulled open.

“Hey—” Echo sings, and Clarke can hear the flirtatious, fucking presumptuous lilt to her normally monotone voice.

“Shit,” swears Bellamy, as Clarke lets out a surprised squeak. He immediately moves to cover Clarke’s body with his, protect her modesty, or her reputation, or maybe just the fact that it’s her at all. His next move is to pull the blankets over both of them. But Clarke fears the damage is done—there’s no hiding what they were doing, and even if Echo hadn’t caught a glimpse of Clarke’s face before Bellamy covered it, it doesn’t take a genius to do the math and figure out it’s her.

“Oh,” Echo says dumbly.

“What do you want, Echo?” Bellamy snaps. Clarke doesn’t blame him for his irritation—she’d been _so close,_ and his cock is still fucking lodged inside her, with Echo standing there like a lobotomised donkey.

“Well, I was _going_ to see if you wanted to come to the lake with me now that it’s stopped raining, but I can see you’re busy with your whore,” Echo sniffs.

Perhaps Clarke should be insulted by that, but honestly, she has no problem being Bellamy’s whore. And the sound of pure jealousy spewing from Echo’s mouth is music to her ears. It pretty much makes up for the fact that they’re soon to be outed to the rest of the group by the worst person possible.

Bellamy, on the other hand, is livid. He sits up, keeping a blanket around his waist, while Clarke wraps herself in another, half frustrated at the interruption, half happy to watch her boyfriend defend her honour.

“Don’t you fucking call her that,” he growls. “Don’t take your fucking jealousy out on her.”

“Excuse me for being angry that you’ve led me on all weekend,” Echo spits.

“Led you on?” he repeats, incredulous. “I told you it was over. I have never said anything to suggest otherwise.”

By now, others have popped their heads out of tents to watch the show, and the mystery of Clarke’s secret lover has well and truly been revealed. Yet, somehow, she doesn’t feel the embarrassment she thought she’d feel, despite being caught naked with her boyfriend’s dick inside her—she mostly just feels smug.

Bellamy turns on the rest of the group. “Enjoying the show?” he huffs. “You’re all just as bad. Maybe if you all weren’t such fucking assholes, we wouldn’t have had to keep it a secret. The way you treated Clarke last night was deplorable.”

“Aw, Clarke,” Murphy says sarcastically. “Did you run crying to your daddy because the other kids were mean to you?”

“Shut up, Murphy,” Clarke snaps, grabbing Bellamy’s arm to stop him from engaging in a naked fistfight with his supposed second-best friend.

Echo’s face is red with embarrassment, or anger, Clarke isn’t sure which, or maybe it’s both. She turns on Clarke then, maybe realising she’s lost the battle with Bellamy.

“I thought we were friends. You let me think he was interested.”

“Believe me, I would never lead you to believe that. And we were never friends.”

“You _stole_ my boyfriend.”

Monty tries to come to Clarke’s defence then, hair wet, basket of mushrooms in hand. “Well—did she really steal him if you were already broken up when they got together?”

“No, I stole him,” Clarke says matter-of-factly. Screw trying to stay on Echo’s good side. “But he did wait an hour after he dumped you before he fucked me, if that helps.”

Echo is left speechless and fuming at that.

Octavia appears then, taking in the scene in silence, putting it together. “What…?” she starts. “Clarke—you and Bellamy?”

Clarke nods shortly, and someone—Jasper, maybe—gives a wolf whistle. Octavia stares at them a little longer.

“Are you cheating on your secret boyfriend with my _brother_?”

Bellamy chokes out a laugh, and for the first time since Echo so rudely interrupted them, Clarke feels embarrassed. Because this is the part where she has to explain to Octavia that in actual fact, Bellamy is the one she calls daddy.

“Um,” Clarke hedges. “He actually. Kind of _is_ the secret boyfriend.”

Octavia turns a little green—like she might actually vomit. “You can’t be serious. You don’t—you two—no.”

“Thanks for your support, O,” Bellamy snorts. “You’ve been a really great friend to Clarke these last couple of days, trying to set her up with Raven’s pathetic ex—”

“Hey!” Finn interjects.

“Telling everyone her secrets, _and_ making fun of her for it. The least you could do is be supportive of her relationship. _Our_ relationship.”

Octavia makes a face. “Fuck,” she groans. “You could’ve at least told me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Your reaction right now is exactly why we haven’t told you.”

Octavia takes a deep breath. “Okay, I know. I really want to be happy for you guys. But I feel like I know a little too much about your sex life, and I need some space right now.” It’s not exactly an apology, but it’s the closest one gets from Octavia Blake, and maybe the most mature thing she’s ever said.

She stalks off into the woods then, and there’s an awkward silence as everyone stands around, not quite sure what to do next.

Lincoln clears his throat. “Um. Congratulations, guys,” he says. “I better go check on her.” He follows Octavia into the woods.

Echo shoots another glare towards Clarke and Bellamy before stomping off in the direction of the lake.

Bellamy shoots a look around the camp. “Anyone else got anything else to say or can I go back to fucking my girlfriend?”

Clarke’s stomach swoops at his words, a deep blush covering her body. She’s never going to tire of hearing him call her his girlfriend. Until he’s calling her his fiancée. And then his wife.

There’s a chorus of awkward congratulations, and one _I totally knew it_ from Raven, even though she very clearly did not know it, before they all go back to their business, and Bellamy slams the door shut, separating the two of them from the rest of the world. Just how Clarke likes it.

“Not exactly how we planned that going,” he says wryly.

“No, but I enjoyed it immensely,” Clarke smiles.

“Did you just?” Bellamy says, leaning in to brush his lips against hers. “And that had nothing to do with you getting to tell Echo exactly who I belong to, huh?”

“Maybe a little,” she grins cheekily.

“Brat.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

He fucks her again, finally getting her that second, and then third, and even a fourth orgasm before they’re both spent. Clarke doesn’t even worry that the rest of their friends know exactly what they’re doing. She’s not ashamed of him, or of their relationship, and if their friends think it’s weird, they can go and get fucked.

“Next time,” Clarke hums, wrapped in Bellamy’s arms, her face against his chest. “Let’s just make it you and me.”


End file.
